


Married

by SoftTomParis



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Celebrating Holidays, Established Relationship, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Muslim Julian Bashir - Freeform, Post-Canon, Quiet living, Ramadan, Transman Julian Bashir - Freeform, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftTomParis/pseuds/SoftTomParis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of Julian and Garak's married life, post-canon AU. Drabble series. Featuring: Mundane married life, kid fic, shamless fluff, and the occasional war with the Romulans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ramadan

_Deep Space Nine, 2377_

The wake-up call started abruptly at 4:30am. Julian groaned and sat up. 

“Computer,” he called with a controlled grogginess, “Suhoor plate, program 3.” 

He rolled over and pecked his husband on the forehead, whom he knew was only pretending to be asleep. But by now, the Cardassian knew better than to pull the doctor back into bed. The scent of freshly replicated okra wafted into the bedroom. Garak almost awakened in response. Julian spoke in a low tone, just above a whisper, 

“I’ll leave out any leftovers on the table. Please don't annoy Odo too much at your lunch today, you know how he whines. And let me know if you’ll come to Iftar tonight, we’ll be in Lt. Shahid’s quarters today. Love you.” 

Garak only mumbled before rolling over and going back to sleep. Julian sighed, then clumsily hopped into his prayer clothes. He threw a spare uniform into his workbag, then walked out to greet the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback, comments, and/or Garashir love is appreciated :)


	2. Wedding

_Cardassia Prime, 2399_

“…I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on Elina. Mind you, it wasn’t on her face, but her back, as she had somehow broken into our house and was in the midst of eating her way through our fridge.” The crowd laughed politely, but genuinely. 

Julian continued, in fluent Kardasi, “After we caught her for about the third or fourth time, we just started inviting her to dinner. She always magically showed up at our doorstep the exact second Elim was done cooking. After almost a year we fell completely in love with her, and knew we wanted her as our child. It also helped that she has the same name as her father. And, I don’t know if you remember this, darling,” he turned to his daughter, “but we adopted you on this day, exactly 20 years ago.” 

“Of course I remember, Dad.” Elina smiled softly. 

“Do you also remember how you never came late to a meal, ever, until he came around?!” The crowd laughed again, this time harder. Elina’s new husband, Toral, smiled sheepishly. “Your brother insisted that Armageddon had finally arrived and started reading Apocalypse prophecies off the Internet, while your sister quietly tried to convince your father that you had been kidnapped by the Romulans…” 

A pair of twins, mixed Human and Cardassian, snickered. Garak looked over at his children, first at the twins next to him, then at his daughter next to her husband. His own husband’s speech continued in the background, and he looked over at the crowd. A mix of species, ranging from neighbors to coworkers to old friends, laughed and smiled along with Julian. It was Elina and Toral who wanted the joint Federation-Cardassian wedding, for whatever reason. At one point in his life, Elim could have never imagined himself at an event so saccharine, so sentimental. 

But, looking around, he knew he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.


	3. Infirmary, Invasion, Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: miscarriage

_Deep Space Nine, 2379_

It was the middle of the night. Garak stepped out of the airlock, his child sleeping in his arms. He carried a Starfleet Medical duffle bag, with only a couple of days’ worth of clothes for him and his daughter, and hoped he wouldn’t need any more. 

“Garak.” They were curtly greeted. 

“Hello, Ezri.” 

“This way.” Ezri wordlessly led him through once familiar hallways and corridors, before finally arriving at a turbolift. She motioned for him to get in. As it rose, Elina stirred. 

“Papa?” She mumbled in Kardasi, “Where are we?”

“Shh darling,” he stroked her hair reassuringly, “go back to sleep.” She quietly obeyed and nestled her face into Garak’s neck once more. By the time she drifted off, the lift had arrived at Ops. 

“We’ll beam you into the infirmary from here.” Ezri positioned herself at the controls. 

Garak walked onto the transporter pad. “Ezri?” 

“Yes, Garak?” 

“Thank you for this. I am in your debt.” 

Ezri chuckled, “Nonsense,” as she beamed them away. 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

They landed directly next to Julian’s biobed. Garak laid Elina down on the empty one next to it. He walked over to his husband who was resting, albeit not peacefully. His eyes were sunken and hair disheveled; his head tossed from side to side while he appeared to be dreaming. 

Garak cupped his husband’s cheek, and brown eyes fluttered open. “G-garak?” 

“My dear.” 

“Garak!” Julian sat up, “I-I, Ezri told me about the Romulans…Cardassia…w-what are we going to do, Elim? Where’s Elina?”

“Shh, it’s alright my dear, she’s right over there,” Garak looked over at the neighboring biobed, “and Ezri is taking care of everything. Please, do not worry about anyone but yourself right now.” 

Realization dawned, “Oh Elim, I-,” Julian began to tear, “-I’m so sorry. I—“

“—My love, please, please, do not apologize for anything.” Garak pulled Bashir towards him. They held each other as Bashir sniffled into Garak’s shoulder. After a moment, Garak asked, “How far along were you?” 

Julian pulled back and wiped his eyes, “Just over two months, apparently. I didn’t even realize until I ran out of hormones, you know, when the Romulans destroyed the medical transport. And then I forgot to check because we’re in a war and apparently, I was actually pregna—“ Julian choked up, and Garak wrapped his arms around him again. “I-I didn’t even know this was possible. I don’t know what to think, or say.” 

“There’s only one thing to say now, my love,” he ran a hand through Julian’s hair, “in the words of your people, _‘Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un’_.”

And together they mourned, for both family and the State.


	4. Between The World And Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: anti-blackness

_Cardassia Prime, 2397_

“Ah!” Julian walked over to his son, sprawled on their traditional Cardassian couch, and ruffled his hair, “What book has Jake Sisko recommended this time?” 

“ _Between the World and Me_ by Ta-Nehisi Coates.” Olin replied solemnly, sitting up. 

“Oh, really?” Julian sat down next to him. “Your father and I read that book together, after I started to seriously court him.” 

Olin replied with a dry, “Oh, gross. Did you argue about it or something?” 

Julian swatted his arm lightly, “No. It was actually the one book we didn’t argue about. I lent him "The Fire Next Time" to read before that, and I think he was shocked.” 

“Father? Shocked?” 

“I know, right? Instead of giving me his ‘opinions’ on the book and its subject matter, he just asked me questions, calmly, and _listened_ when I answered him.” Olin chuckled. “But honestly, Olin, how are you feeling? After reading this book, that is.” 

“I…I don’t know. It’s a lot.” 

“It is.” 

“Dad?” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m just wondering…as someone who’s Black, would you have let me go to Starfleet Academy if America was still like this? With the heavily militarized, racist cops, the cultural apathy towards Black and Brown bodies, and I-I don’t know, this broken system that seemed to thrive of our suffering and oppression?” 

Julian sighed and looked at his son. His son, whose only apparent Cardassian traits were the slight forehead spoon and neck ridges, whom Miles nicknamed, “Julian 2.0” for his wavy hair and dusty, brown skin tone. He thought back a similar conversation with Sisko, after the Captain had awakened from his vision as Benny Russell. He thought about waking up one day, on a planet light years away, to news that too many other parents have had to hear. His stomach lurched. 

“No, I don't think so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sid has ID'd as Black and Arab in different interviews. I have chosen to be faithful to his racial identity in fic, since I also interpret Julian as (at least part) Sudanese.
> 
> I also have a tumblr now! Follow me at: softtomparis.tumblr.com


	5. Soundararajan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: food, dialogue heavy, mpreg

_Deep Space Nine, 2380_

“Grandpa?” Elina called. 

“Yeeess, Choti?” Richard Bashir answered, smoothing out batter over a thin, heavy pan. 

“What’s for lunch?” 

“Ooh, today is your Dad’s favorite South Indian dish! Actually, it’s the only South Indian dish he likes. It’s called Masala Dosa.” 

“Dad, please.” Julian whined. He lay on the couch, his arms over his eyes. Amsha Bashir massaged her son’s ankles, swollen by his pregnancy. 

“How do you know how to make South Indian food, Grandpa?” Elina asked, completely ignoring Julian’s whines. 

Richard Bashir folded a mixture of spices and potatoes into the now-ready crispy, crepe-like bread. “Because my father was from South India, and I grew up there! To be precise, I am from a city called Bengaluru. But, we always called it Bangalore. Growing up in India, my father taught me how to cook Dosa, Idli, Vada, Upma, and all other sorts of delicious Tamil food. Which your Dad does not like, by the way.” Julian whined some more in protest, but his daughter once again ignored him.

“Why doesn’t Dad like South Indian food?” Julian sputtered and attempted to get off the couch. 

“Julian,” Amsha warned, “if you get off this couch and those twins break your hips again, you can walk to the infirmary by yourself.”

Julian groaned, “I’m a pregnant man, not an invalid!” 

Amsha rolled her eyes, “You are 38 weeks pregnant and just healed from a micro-fracture in your pelvis. As a nurse and as your mother, I would say you are pretty invalid.” Julian groaned some more and lay back down. 

Richard walked over and set two tin plates on the coffee table before them. Each dosa was crisp and golden-brown, rolled in on itself into a cylinder. He left and brought back two smaller plates, a bowl and two condiment containers resting on each. “There…sambar, green chutney, and coconut chutney.”

“Oh my goodness, thank you Dad.” Richard smiled and sat down at the main dining table with Elina. She repeated her question. 

“Why doesn’t your Dad have a palette? Because instead of raising him in India or Sudan, we decided to raise him in England, where my mother was from, and space. The two worst places for food _in the universe_ , if you ask me.” He saw Elina twisting her plate around, trying to figure out how to eat the dosa. “Darling, Choti, here. Break off a piece with your hands and use the bread to scoop up a bit of the potato inside.” He demonstrated accordingly, “Then, you can dip it in the sambar or chutney.” Elina followed eagerly, dipping her dosa into the green chutney instead of the sambar. “Well, how is it?” 

“It’s so yummy! Thank you Grandpa!” 

Richard chuckled, “You’re very welcome Choti. Now, any more questions for today? Any more stories you’d like me to tell?” 

“Why is your last name Bashir, Grandpa? I thought it was a Sudanese name.” 

“It is a Sudanese name, love. You see, a lot of Tamilians don’t have last names. Many of us take our father’s given name as our last name. I thought it would be silly to give our kids ‘Richard’ as a last name, so I took your grandmother’s last name when we got married.” 

“So what was your last name before you got married?” 

Julian answered for him, “Soundararajan. It’s our middle name, dear. I changed it from Subatoi when we adopted you.”

“Subatoi?” Elina asked, incredulous. 

“My old, old second name was Srikutty, which is actually a Malayalam name. When I changed my name at fifteen I wanted to keep my initials, so I chose Subatoi, the main character of some obscure anime I used to be obsessed with. I wanted to change it again when I married your father, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to change it to until we were in the middle of the adoption process.” 

“Ah, okay. Dad?” 

“Yes, Darling?” 

“Can we visit Father in the shop after lunch?” 

Julian smiled, “Of course, dear.” 

“Sure, if you are going to fly there.” Amsha interrupted. 

“Mother.” 

“Yes?” Amsha stared him down. Julian groaned. 

“Fine.” He replied in Arabic. He turned to Elina, speaking Standard, “Perhaps another day, darling?” 

“Okay Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes: 
> 
> Choti-'Little girl' in Hindi, sometimes used as a term of endearment. I always mix up Hindi and Sindhi romanizations, so if I'm spelling this wrong someone please let me know. But for now, Google says I am right. 
> 
> Dosa, Idli, Vada, Upma-My comfort food. Google images is your friend, my worst enemy. 
> 
> Srikutty-Malayalam name meaning "blessed child/daughter". I've heard it's also Tamil or very similar to the Tamil meaning though?? Google is not helping me out with this.


	6. Exclamations

_Cardassia Prime, 2383_

Ziyalla was always the slower of the Bashir twins. While her sibling was running around well before their first birthdays, she was still waddling behind. At almost three, her sibling was almost speaking complete sentences in both Standard and Kardasi and beginning to read, while Ziyalla remained completely silent. Julian was obviously concerned, but Garak reassured him that regardless, Ziyalla would be loved for who she was and be able to find her own way to contribute to the well being of the State. Julian stormed off at that.  


The morning after, Julian informed Garak that there was an opening at a Federation-sponsored Special Needs program. Garak was initially wary, since the Cardassian equivalents were traditionally vocational academies. But, Julian insisted that speech and behavioral therapy in early childhood would help their child “more fully maximize her future ability to contribute to the State.” Garak smirked and remarked that there was hope for his husband just yet. 

Julian would have joined them had there not been an emergency at the city hospital. So, Garak alone had to bring Ziyalla. Garak’s gaze traced the outline of the newly rising skyline from behind the window of the public shuttle. The high-rise buildings were still Cardassian in design, except for their sheer height. No doubt an architectural suggestion from the Detapa Council’s new Federation friends, one which he found absolutely distasteful. Perhaps Garak still clung to the hope of preserving the cultural purity of the Cardassian State. But, with his Human husband, adopted daughter, and mixed-species twins with one disabled, at the moment he was simply in no position to worry about that.  


Ziyalla began to squirm from her seat on Garak’s lap. 

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Ziyalla frowned and reached towards the bag next to them. “Do you want juice?” The child nodded.

Garak handed her a Terran “sippy cup” and secretly cherished the opportunity to silently reflect on his life and the State, and how his child’s muteness changed how he thought about both---

\---The shuttle lurched, and Ziyalla’s juice fell to the floor. 

“SHIT!” She yelled. Every other head on the bus snapped towards them. 

Ziyalla’s juice cup was intact, but the last piece of quiet in Garak’s life was shattered.


	7. Surprises

_Cardassia Prime, 2397_

Despite being galaxy-wide renowned instrumentalist, singer, and composer, Ziyalla Bashir was nervous. On this day, she was given the honor of performing traditional Cardassian music before the Federation Council to celebrate Cardassia’s entrance into the Federation. But, that was not what she was nervous about. 

“D-dad?” Ziyalla addressed the man brushing her hair. Older, and perhaps wiser now, judging by the patches of grey in his beard, Julian Bashir exuded calm. 

“Yes, my love?” He responded, still running a comb through her hair.

“I-I…” 

“Yes?” He made eye contact with her in the mirror of the dressing room, yet did not pause from separating his daughter’s jet black hair into three large strands. 

“I’m a lesbian.” She responded, resolutely. 

Julian paused, but only for the briefest of moments. “Okay,” he responded, and began to braid her hair. 

“Okay? Just, okay?” 

Julian turned her seat around to face him. “Darling, my dearest, what do you expect me to say? You have queer parents, one non-binary and the other a transman, a gay transman brother, and an asexual panromantic sister. Honestly, I think I’d actually be _concerned_ if you were cisgender and heterosexual. Anything else?” 

Ziyalla half-smiled, then swallowed loudly. “My girlfriend’s Klingon.” 

Julian’s face dropped. “Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I disappeared, senior year of college is starting. Job applications, thesis-ing, life, whoopie yay me. I have a couple more chapters planned, but I may not update till at the earliest October. Thanks for reading though, folks!


	8. Pale Moonlight (Reprise)

Deep Space Nine, 2379

“My Dearest Garak—

I’m afraid there is little news to write home with, other than the usual. The casualty lists are getting longer and longer, and the Romulans keep destroying Federation supply ships. Thankfully, we receive enough food from Bajor itself that we don’t starve. The Romulans, however, destroyed the last of the medical transports. To be quite frank, I am not confident in the current state of our supplies. I have needed to forego replicating my own hormones just to be able to make enough plasma and blood for all the wounded brought in from the Neutral Zone. Other than the state of my own infirmary, however, at least it does not feel as though we are under siege. Well, I guess it’s only a partial siege, since the occasional Starfleet ship can slip through the Romulan line. And, we can still send letters home. 

But Garak, my love, I’m not writing to ask about the nuances of sieges and military theory. I want to be honest with you, for probably the first time in our marriage. If I don’t come home, I need you to know this: 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The breakdown of the treaty, the War, none of it. How do I know? Because I was supposed to stop it. 

I joined Section 31. Given my history with them, you’re probably wondering why. I guess I shouldn’t say I joined, but rather, that I was ordered to, by Captain Sisko and the Federation President himself. It all started the year I was stationed on Earth after the Dominion War…” 

-x-x-x-x-x-

_Julian Bashir’s grandmother was an old-fashioned woman. No PADDs, no communicators, no technology at the dinner table in the Bashir compound. All meals were hand cooked, and none of the bedrooms had replicators. A computer engineer, she even rigged up an added sensor to the house computer that could selectively locate and disable individual devices. In her late 90’s and still working, she was at the age where she absolutely refused to bring her work home with her. Which is why Julian knew it was urgent when she woke him up that night._

_“Julian,” She shook him gently and whispered in her jumbled lilt of Syrian and Sudanese Arabic, “There is a call for you.”_

_“Teta? What time is it?”_

_“Doesn’t matter. My office, now.”_

_Julian stumbled into the room beside his grandmother’s bedroom and half-consciously plopped in front of the small view screen in the wall next to the main computer unit._

_“So, I finally meet the woman who’s been blocking my calls for the past month.” A familiar voice chuckled. “Quite the woman, isn’t she? I’d expect nothing less from the grandmother of Julian Bashir.”_

_“Captain! I-I mean, Admiral.” Julian finally awoke. “I-I, a month? I-I’m so sorry, wait, what calls, sir?”_

_“Social calls, Doctor, nothing to worry about. And I apologize for late hour, but as you might be able to tell, this isn’t another social call.”_

_“What happened, Captain?”_

_“Nothing has happened…yet. And I need your help keeping it that way. I want you on the next public transport to San Francisco first thing in the morning. You are to tell no one where you are going, when you are going, and how you are getting there. And you are to report to me the second you arrive at Starfleet Headquarters. Understood?”_

_“Y-yes sir.”_

_“Good. Sisko out.”_

_Morning came, and Julian informed his mother and grandmother about the long day ahead at work. If Siddiqi sleepwalks into my room and cries if I’m not there, he told them, please let her know I’ll be home soon and I’ll give her all the goodnight kisses she wants the next night. They asked him what could possibly keep him at the hospital all night and he grumbled about Starfleet bureaucracy again like he did for several weeks after the war, and that seemed to placate them._

_He took his hoverbike, a last gift from his now-passed grandfather, and set forth into Omdurman’s city proper, parking the bike at the hospital before walking to the public transport station next door. He made his way onto the packed shuttle, cringing internally at the copious amounts of unsolicited physical contact. After settling into his seat, he willed himself to sleep for the two-hour trip. He groggily stumbled off the shuttle. Immigration asked him about the purpose for his trip to San Francisco, to which he mumbled in Arabic vacation, apparently, after which the immigration officer shook her head and registered him as a tourist, not bothering to look at his data profile to see that he was indeed, a Starfleet officer._

_“Julian!” A man walked towards him and pulled him into a hug._

_“Good to see you too, Benjamin.”_

_“Come, this way.” Still smiling, his ex-commander led him to an unmarked hovercar._

_Once comfortably settled inside, the car began to move._

_“Admiral, I don’t believe I’ve ever called you Benjamin before. To be quite frank, I don’t know if I ever will again.”_

_“At ease, Doctor. I’m only a Rear-Admiral, no need to get a head of yourself. Speaking of promotions, I never got to congratulate you on yours, Captain Bashir.”_

_“Thank you, sir. The hospital in Omdurman just needed someone with a Captain’s level of security clearance, really.”_

_“Julian Bashir, being humble? I know quite a few people who wouldn’t believe that…”_

_Julian chuckled, “I know, Captain. I miss Jadzia, too.”_

_Sisko looked down, eyes distant. The car stopped. Once he lifted his head again, a third person entered the car and sat in the seats behind them. “It seems our guest of honor has arrived. Don’t look back, Julian.”_

_“W-what—“_

_“—just keep driving.” A voice commanded from the backseat._

_At some point Julian, still jetlagged, fell asleep. When he awoke, the car was pulling up under the roots of a giant redwood._

_“Now,” Sisko began, “this is the President’s first time visiting an American National Park since his election, I trust you’ll be a proper host for him.” Julian sputtered, and turned around. An older Xindi humanoid smiled at him from the backseat._

_“Hello, Dr. Bashir.” Julian sputtered some more._

_“M-mistex President! I apologize for my behavior earlier, I—“_

_“—I know you just came from the other side of the world. But, I hope you’ll utilize some of those genetic enhancements I officially pardoned to give me a proper tour?”_

_“Of course!”_

_“Good, now get out of the car, son.”_

_The three of them exited the car and began to walk around the tree. The President of the Federation gently pulled Bashir close to him._

_“Now son, if folks pass by I want you to pretend you’re telling me all about these lovely trees. Until then, you just nod and listen to what I have to say, alright? We are going to have this conversation in broad daylight since too many…people…would expect us to have it late at night, in private.” Julian nodded softly. “Good, now that you’re on board, your former Captain and I have a couple of details to fill you in on…”_

-x-x-x-x-x-

“And that’s when they told me about your role in bringing the Romulans into the Dominion War. They warned me that someone from Section 31 was planning on leaking this information to the Romulan Senate, and that I was the only person who could successfully infiltrate Section 31, stop the leak, and protect you and the information you kept all at the same time. As per my assignment, I was to be placed on Cardassia posing as an aid worker, until I could successfully identify and stop the Romulans’ informant. 

I did just that. I didn’t just pose as an aid worker, though. I cared about every single one of the children I treated. When I go home, I plan to return to aid work and treat even more. As for protecting you, I would do that regardless of my orders. Needless to say, quite a few of the higher-ups privy to this plot were not too happy to hear about our marriage and our having a child, but my initial orders to protect you kept them from separating us. 

The bombing of the Starfleet Shuttle Yard, Cardassian authorities never found the culprit, did they? Well, that too was a part of my mission. I found the infiltrator, a fellow aid worker. I followed him to the shuttle I found he was using to try to smuggle information to the Romulans. Once I figured out his schedule, I snuck into his shuttle and programmed it so that it would accidentally initiate and lock the self-destruct sequence once he attempted to access the communicator. There were no innocents injured in the blast, and no sensitive information made its way to the Romulans. 

So, I killed a fellow officer, violated the right to fair trial guaranteed to all Federation citizens, laid the groundwork to destroy an organization that has been protecting the Federation since its beginning, and for what? To prevent a war, to save lives? No, I did it to keep you safe. The Romulans broke this treaty on their own accord. As long as you’re safe, I’d be happy to sacrifice my “Federation values” a hundred times over. During the Dominion War, I had no Federation, or Starfleet, or damn bureaucracy. I only had you. None of what’s happening was supposed to happen, but every thing I did I would do again. And I would do it all of it for you, Garak. All of it.

Your Husband, 

Julian Bashir” 

 

“…Computer. Delete that entire letter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I lied about not updating for a while. I've been thinking of this chapter for a while, and it's gonna be a two-parter :O


	9. Re: Pale Moonlight (Reprise)

_Deep Space Nine, 2379_

“My Dear Julian---

Do you take me for a fool? Or, in our entire acquaintance, have you learned absolutely nothing from me about keeping secrets? You can’t keep something a ‘secret’ if you back it up as an encrypted file labeled, ‘deliver upon death of sender.’ Hmph. ‘Deliver upon death of sender’. ‘Death of sender.’ Lovely reading that after you almost, oh I don’t know, bled to death in your own infirmary. What in your heaven’s name possessed you to even _think_ —“

“---Computer, delete that.” 

Garak sighed, and took a moment to regain his composure.

“My Dear Julian— 

You may have not wanted me to find your most recent letter, since it seems you deleted it. I, however, found a backup copy while searching through your computer. I know, that in and of it self seems suspicious, but do believe me when I say I had good intentions. I simply wanted to find out if there were any signs or if you had any suspicions about your previous…condition. I got what I wanted, and perhaps, a little more. 

I wanted to look at reports from your previous physicals, which I do have clearance for as your next-of-kin. Of course, you hadn’t had a single one since this war started. Leave it to the brilliant Doctor Bashir to take care of everyone but himself.

You looked tired in your letters, dear. Especially this last one. But, you needn’t have written anything at all. You see I’ve known your ‘secret’ for a while now. I always had my suspicions, but everything came together after the bombing of the Starfleet Shuttle Yard…” 

-x-x-x-x-x-

_Garak read and re-read the message. It requested he come up to the City’s Security Department immediately. He immediately feared the worst; the new Detapa Council was taking pains to ensure that any and all remnants of the Obsidian Order were wiped from Cardassian society. He briefly considered leaving work at that moment and taking his family to the next shuttle to Deep Space Nine. It was then he remembered that the Shuttle Station had been attacked the previous night and all non-emergency transports were on standby. So, stood and slowly pushed his chair into his desk. He walked over to the turbolift and seemed to contemplate his order, before finally commanding it go up three levels from his. It opened out into the Security Department._

_“Minister Garak,” A male voice called to him, “this way.” Garak was lead to a room just beside the elevator by a Cardassian dressed in plain black. Garak then realized that everyone in the office wore all black garments similarly styled. “Please, sit.” Garak was placed in front of a large wall computer screens. He quickly realized this was security footage of the entire capital city. “We need your help editing some video and erasing a few files.”  
_

_“If I may ask, sir, how could I, the Minister of Landscaping and Activities, possibly help you with your computer…troubles?”_

_“Do not test our department or our patience, Minister. Besides, you should be personally invested in helping us resolve our computer…trouble.” The man started the video._

_The video frame shook, and going off the time and location stamp, Garak realized this was from the street just outside the Starfleet Shuttle Yard just after the previous night’s bombing. After the shaking stops, a figure steps out into the street. And while the camera isn’t awfully clear, Garak knows that gait, that posture, that silhouette anywhere. A face briefly flashes towards the camera, realizes that it’s there, then runs off in the direction of…their own goddamn street. Garak made a mental note to murder his husband after he got home that night._

_“What do you need me to do?” Garak asked, emotionless._

_“Take out any video of the human and make it look like an accident, like the footage was damaged in the blast. Then completely purge the deleted files from our system.”_

_Garak silently obeyed. It took him less than half an hour. When he was finished, the Security agent thanked him and apologized for taking up his time, to which he responded that if the higher-ups asked, he was just going over some security footage of his beloved parks, to rule out the possibility that the culprit just so happened to be skipping around one of them after his dastardly attack. The agent almost smiled and Garak felt slightly sick to his stomach. He practically jumped into turbolift and commanded it back to his floor._

-x-x-x-x-x-

“I meant to ask you about it that night. But, that was also when you found out you were being recalled to Deep Space Nine. It was only supposed to be for two weeks, however, so I resolved to ask you after you had returned home. Now, it’s been two months and neither of us is home. We have a few other things to talk about right now, arguably more important things. Till then, I need you to know that you needn’t hide anymore. I know what you know, my husband. Your secrets are mine. And I also want to thank you…for everything. 

Ever Yours,  
Eli---” 

“---Computer, delete that too. He’s quite literally 50 meters away, I’ll just tell him all of that when he gets released tomorrow morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I wouldn't have any new chapters till October but also why wait till then when I can just procrastinate on my thesis
> 
> also yes, Garak is the Minister of Landscaping&Activities, aka Parks & Rec


End file.
